


we’ll rise where the world moves on

by wecantseeyou



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, gift giving is my love language, this is first and foremost about finding and creating your own home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26185792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wecantseeyou/pseuds/wecantseeyou
Summary: “Do you want to go home, Yasha?” Veth asked, pushing her half-finished glass of wine away from her. Yasha took a sip of her drink and held the warm beer in her mouth for a moment. She placed her mug back on the table carefully, rolling the question over in her mind. Her fingers picked at a bit of the bread left over on her plate, squishing the delicate dough.“I think I would like that,” she said. She released the bread and ran her fingers along the table in front of her, feeling the grain of the wood, the nicks and dents from use and in some cases, abuse. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d be going home to.”--The Nein help Yasha find home.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 15
Kudos: 184





	we’ll rise where the world moves on

**Author's Note:**

> this is my love letter to yasha, and to the mighty nein as family.
> 
> originally, this story was something else. something similar, maybe, but whatever semblance of a through-line present here was nonexistent. then e105 happened, and matt just does healing and redemption so well. and then e106 happened. and here we are.
> 
> spoilers thru e106, and details from the explorer’s guide to wildemount.
> 
> unbeta’d and unedited, as it were. wecantseeyou on tumblr.
> 
> Cheers.

_**Veth.** _

“No swords on the table please, I’m about to have dinner ready,” Caduceus called from the kitchen, poking his head through the doorway to admonish Yasha and Fjord who had littered the table with oils and whetstones.

“Sorry, Caddy,” the paladin called back. He began to gather his equipment into a bundle in his arms and carried it toward the stairs. Yasha ran a rag down her blade once more and then followed suit, wrapping Skingorger and her pot of oil in a large cloth. She only took it as far as the doorway, and laid the bundle down on the floor along the wall.

Her hands were grimy with dirt and oil, despite her best efforts to clean them on the fabric of her pants. Yasha made her way to the washroom, and as she pushed the door open, she was greeted with the brown skin and toned muscle of Beau’s back as she pulled a shirt over her head.

The monk turned at the sound of the door opening, and smiled when she saw who it was. “Hey, Yasha,” she said, reaching up to begin tying her hair back.

Yasha cleared her throat and tried to force her cheeks to remain their normal pale. She failed miserably.

“Hello, Beau. I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just, you know, Caduceus has dinner, so,” she trailed off, holding her dirty hands up for explanation and looking anywhere beside her friend.

To her credit, Beau ignored it. Or didn’t notice. “Yeah, yeah, cool. I guess I’ll uh, see you at dinner then?”

“Yeah, for sure, dinner, yes,” said Yasha, stepping away from the door to let Beau pass.

Beau gave her one last smile before disappearing down the hall, calling out to Fjord about some bet she wanted to make on their imminent dinner. As her voice faded, Yasha let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

Shaking her head, she set about cleaning herself up for their meal.

\--

The meal Caduceus made was, as usual, delicious. The spices he could find in Rosohna changed every time they returned, and he has developed quite the repertoire.

The Nein relaxed in their post meal comfort, sipping drinks around the table and sharing stories about childhoods far from here. It was quiet and calm, most words coming at little more than a hushed murmur. Yasha clutched the mug of beer in front of her and snuck a glance to her left to watch Beau.

She was leaning precariously in her chair, balancing on what seemed to be nothing but never wavering. Her eyes were slightly closed, in drunkenness or tiredness, Yasha wasn’t sure.

Fjord was just finishing a story about his time at the orphanage, and tricking some older kids to carry rocks around in their packs. “I would really like you all to see Port Damali in full one day. It’s home, after all,” he said.

Beau chimed in and said, “I mean, you went to my home and saw what it was like, so the bar is low. I’m sure we’ll get to see where everyone’s from at some point.” The monk placed her glass of whisky to her lips and took a long pull. The table faded into a somewhat quiet scene, a few heads nodding at Beau’s words. Beau smiled, seemingly to herself, and closed her eyes.

It was a long while before anyone spoke again. Yasha indulged herself by looking at each of her friends in turn. Studying what their faces looked like in peace and how a few (Jester, Caduceus) had smiles dancing on their lips. She found Veth watching her from beside Caleb.

“Do you want to go home, Yasha?” Veth asked, pushing her half-finished glass of wine away from her. Yasha took a sip of her drink and held the warm beer in her mouth for a moment. She placed her mug back on the table carefully, rolling the question over in her mind. Her fingers picked at a bit of the bread left over on her plate, squishing the delicate dough.

“I think I would like that,” she said. She released the bread and ran her fingers along the table in front of her, feeling the grain of the wood, the nicks and dents from use and in some cases, abuse. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d be going home to.”

Jester leaned over the table and put her hand on the barbarian’s arm. “We’ll be there to support you no matter what it is, Yasha,” she reassured, squeezing her arm lightly. Yasha offered her a small smile in return.

Caleb cleared his throat from across the table and waited until Yasha made eye contact with him to speak. “You have protected each of us when we have dealt with difficult truths in our past and present. Caduceus and finding his family, Fjord with Uk’otoa, Veth becoming Veth again. You have helped me a great deal feeling safe. We can be the same for you, Yasha,” he said, staring at her intently. “We are a tribe, yes?”

Yasha held his gaze for a moment, and said, “Yes, we are a tribe.”

“Then let’s go visit your old one,” said Beau from beside her. She had her feet kicked up on the table and her chair balancing act had become even more precarious. “What they did to you and Zuala was fucked up. You didn’t deserve that, and they don’t deserve you. The least they can give you is a chance to say goodbye.”

Yasha looked back down at her hands, picking at some potting soil beneath her nail. Beside her, Beau dropped her legs back to the ground and leaned forward in the chair to reach out and put a hand on the aasimar’s forearm. She squeezed gently in reassurance, and Yasha covered Beau’s hand with her own.

Yasha looked back at Veth and took a steadying breath. “Yes, I think I’d like to go home very much.”

* * *

_**Fjord.** _

Yasha pushed herself back up, her feet together and back straight. She grunted with the effort, a trickle of sweat pooling between her shoulder blades and running down her back. She lowered herself again, elbows bent and chest just barely brushing the floor. With a final exhale, she pushed herself back up and locked her elbows straight.

She let her head hang down toward the floor and took several deep breaths before kicking her legs forward and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the practice room. She looked over to where Beau and Fjord were watching her with rapt attention.

Beau’s mouth was slightly open, and her eyes were wide. Fjord had sat back against the wall and he was shaking his head in what Yasha thought might be disbelief. Beau turned toward Fjord and said, “Literally all we do is work out, and she can just bust out over 500 press ups before breakfast? How?”

Yasha chuckled. “I don’t know, Beau. I’ve always been pretty strong,” she said, standing up to get her waterskin resting against the wall by her friends. “Are you ready to start, Fjord?”

The half-orc looked anything other than ready. He stood slowly and unsheathed the longsword he had purchased for sparring, the edges dulled and point clipped. “Yup, definitely ready. Today’s gonna be the day,” he said, mostly to himself. Fjord swung the weapon a few times in his left hand as he walked into position toward the center of the room. He jumped up and down to psych himself up.

Yasha smirked and similarly grabbed her own practice weapon. A simple greatsword, the long dark iron blade had been carefully chipped and dulled. As powerful as the Skingorger was in her hands in the heat of battle, it was nice to scale down to the weapon she first mastered all of those years ago. Back to basics. She tested the weight in her hands and rolled her shoulders to ease some of the exhaustion from the earlier workout. Once Yasha was satisfied she wouldn’t injure herself through overexertion she walked out into the middle of the room opposite Fjord.

“Do you want to spar first, or walk through some exercises?” she asked and squared off her stance. Fjord’s brow furrowed as he considered his options.

“Spar first. That might actually give me a chance.” Yasha let out a light laugh and nodded, bringing her sword up in front of her, both arms held out from her waist. Fjord moved himself into a similar position and took a steadying breath.

“Beau?” she asked. The monk scrambled up from the ground where she had been sitting and centered herself between the two of them.

“Yeah, yup, got it. Just don’t kill each other, please, Jester went out with Veth and Caduceus is gardening,” said Beau, rubbing her hands together. “Uh, go, I guess?”

Fjord and Yasha shared a small smile in response, before nodding once to each other. Yasha didn’t give the paladin a chance to think before she charged forward and made a downward swing toward his shoulder. Fjord’s eyes widened just slightly before he moved to block the strike, sliding his blade down the length of Yasha’s sword, the result of which was a sound that made all three of them cringe.

“Good, Fjord,” said Yasha, already moving to step inside. With a twist and upward flick of her arms, she was able to push Fjord’s sword away and slice forward. The half-orc spun his torso out of the way and countered immediately, bringing his right arm up to block out the barbarian’s return swing and slashing out at her head.

Yasha ducked away quickly and stepped back. She smiled despite herself. Fjord was getting better. She pressed forward again and made one, two, three strikes against him, forcing him back with each swing. He blocked the first two, but the third stopped just an inch from his neck.

“Don’t stick in close with me, get yourself space,” she said, resetting her stance. The only indication that Fjord heard her was a curt nod before he made his attempt to press in. His lighter sword helped him catch Yasha out of position before she could get her blade against his and she felt the flat iron press into her exposed arm.

“Yeah, Fjord!” Beau called out from the side, throwing her fist in the air. Yasha shoved Fjord’s blade away and turned to the monk with a raised eyebrow. To her benefit, Beau looked sufficiently sheepish and shrugged in response. “You gotta give him what you can, Yash,” she mumbled, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall.

“Hey!” Fjord called as he attempted to make a few wild thrusts at Yasha. She caught it out of the corner of her eye and pulled her blade to block each swing, still looking at Beau. She smirked at the monk before pivoting on her front foot to put more pressure on Fjord, forcing him to take several quick steps back.

Readjusting her grip, Yasha watched one of the paladin’s feet leave the ground and used her speed to rush into him. She took a swing which he managed to block, but she forced her sword against his until it met the crossguard and used her strength to force the longsword out of Fjord’s hand.

In the second shock flashed across Fjord’s face, her greatsword was pointed into his heaving chest. He looked at her with wide eyes, trying to process how quickly he lost.

Beau whistled lowly from the wall, and when Yasha turned to look, the monk was staring at her. The barbarian felt her cheeks begin to color and she stepped back, dropping her sword from Fjord’s chest.

“That was good, Fjord,” she said. “You got too cocky after you got a hit in though.” Yasha moved back to her things and leaned her practice sword against the wall, grabbing her waterskin. “We can walk through some things so you get more comfortable moving away once you make contact.”

Fjord walked to get his own water, breathing heavily. “Sure, sure. Just give me a second to catch my breath.” He bent over with his hands at his knees. Beau slapped him a few times on the shoulder and he groaned.

“Dude, that was less than a minute, we’ve really gotta work on your cardio,” she said pityingly. The half-orc held a thumb up in response. Yasha laughed again, shaking her head.

Fjord took another of deep breaths before he stood back up fully with his hands on his hips. “Before you just, you know, jump back into things, I do have something for you, Yasha.” He walked over to the door, opened it, and leaned outside to grab something. Whatever he had was large and wrapped in cloth.

Yasha furrowed her brow as he handed the wrapped object to her. Despite its size, it wasn’t very heavy. “What’s this?” she asked quizzically, looking between Beau and Fjord. The monk held her hands up and shook her head.

“Don’t look at me, I have no idea what’s happening.”

Fjord shrugged and said, “Something of a thank you, for the sparring practice and giving me some proper training. And a welcome home present, I guess. Sorry it’s a little late.” The paladin rubbed a hand to the back of his head and smiled softly.

Yasha felt her cheeks color and she smiled in return. She found the edge of the fabric wrapping the large item and began to pull it loose. The covering fell away to reveal a sword sheath, thick and wide, made of strong, carved leather. Even to Yasha’s untrained eyes, the work was beautiful and expertly crafted. She felt her throat tightened and she tried to swallow.

The carving in the leather was familiar in some ways, new in others. It was made to look like a bunch of wildflowers, like the ones Jester had painted on her wall. The style of it was familiar too, and it took Yasha a moment before she realized it was like Fjord’s own oceanic armor.

The barbarian looked up at Fjord. “This is gorgeous. I don’t know how I can thank you.”

“Oh, no, no, this is my thank you. I think it should fit your Skingorger, but if it doesn’t I can always get that fixed,” he said, gesturing to the large sheath. Yasha shook her head in response. It was perfect.

“This is incredibly kind and thoughtful, thank you Fjord.” She gripped the sheath tightly and found her eyes wandering the detailed designs. She wanted to memorize the curve of each petal, how the detail was so clear she could make out the veins of each leaf. Yasha blinked back a few tears from her eyes as she tried to memorize the image.

Fjord cleared his throat. “So, you ready for those exercises?”

* * *

_**Caleb.** _

Yasha almost didn’t hear the knock at her door, as quiet as it was.

“Come in,” she called from her seated position in front of the mural on her wall. The door clicked open, and Caleb took a step into the room. His hair was wild and his shirt sleeves were rolled up showing his bare arms in a rare sight, his fingers playing with the twine around a wrapped object in his hands.

“Excuse me, Yasha. I hope I’m not interrupting. Do you have a moment?” he asked, taking a few more steps into her room. Yasha unfolded her legs and got up to her feet, closing the book in front of her as she stood. “Yes, Caleb, come in,” she said as she brushed off her pants.

Caleb nodded and moved himself to the open doors of the balcony. His hair was ruffled slightly by the cool breeze. He looked out at the dark Rosohna sky and seemed to consider something, quiet stretching for a long moment. That was fine. Yasha could wait.

“How has the chill been?” he asked.

Yasha shrugged. Cold had never bothered her much. “Fine.” Caleb turned to look at her, eyes narrowing in that way they do when he’s trying to figure something out. She looked down and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It often felt like Caleb could see something in her that she herself was unaware of.

“Did you want something, Caleb?” This seemed to snap him back to reality, whatever he was trying to discern moving to the back of his mind.

“Ja, yes. I have something for you. Two things, actually. Before we go,” he replied. He offered her the wrapped package in his hands. Yasha took it gingerly, brow furrowed as she considered the gift.

“Uh, thank you, Caleb,” she said. One finger traced the line of twine securing the plain brown paper in place. A gift for her. “I don’t have anything for you, though.”

Caleb smiled softly. “It is a gift because I wanted to get you a gift, Yasha, not because I expected one in return,” he responded. “Go on, open it.” He gestured to the gift before bringing his hands back in front of him.

Yasha smiled in response and stepped over to the bed, pulling the twine undone on her way. She laid the package down and began unfolding the paper, delicate and unrushed in her movements. The paper opened to reveal two books, because what else would Caleb give as a gift?

The book on top was thin and small, an instruction manual. Baboda’s Guide to Farming in Your Own Home, the cover read. A book about gardening. Yasha looked over her shoulder to give Caleb an appreciative smile. This would help her improve without constantly needing to ask Caduceus for guidance. She put the book aside and turned to the next one.

The second book was larger and older, likely used if the cracked leather of the cover was any indication. Still, despite the age, the volume was beautiful, the leather inlaid with different flowers and vines. There was no title on this book, so Yasha opened the cover and flipped through the first few pages of delicate onionskin to the title page. In bold, flowing script it read: Flora and Fauna of Xhorhas: 7th Edition, ed. Simas Vokel.

Yasha clutched it tightly in her hands and took a breath to steady herself, her eyes stinging.

“They are beautiful, Caleb. I don’t know what to say.” She turned to look at the wizard and tried but probably failed to convey with her eyes what she could not say in words.

Caleb wringed his hands for a moment and looked down. “These are not for you to talk about, they are for you to do something with. I hope they can be helpful to you,” he said looking back up at the barbarian. “I often find myself turning to books when things are… difficult, I suppose. I thought maybe these would be good for you as well.”

Yasha looked back down at the book in her hands, tracing the fine vine wrapping around the border of the cover. She placed the book down on the bed gently and wrapped Caleb in a hug, her strong arms dwarfing the thin wizard. He stiffened and pulled back slightly. It took long seconds for him to relax enough for him to hug her back. Yasha squeezed him lightly. She hoped this one hug could convey even part of what Caleb’s gesture had meant to her.

“Thank you, Caleb. I can’t wait to read them,” she whispered. She held him for a moment longer, then let him go and took a step back. She found her fingers tracing the intricate cover once again.

Caleb nodded and made his way to the door, stopping just inside the threshold. “I am glad you have found your way back to us, Yasha,” he said before he closed the door and walked away down the hall.

Yasha stood facing the back of her door for a while. The sting behind her eyes returned and she blinked back several hot tears. After a few moments, she gathered her new books, sat back down in front of her mural, and began reading.

* * *

_**Caduceus.** _

“Now, we had to get a little creative with the lighting here but I really think this is starting to come along,” Caduceus was leaning down over a potted plant with a tiny pair of shears, cutting off some dead buds from the rest of the purple buds. When he moves to the next planter, Yasha follows behind him with a watering can, soaking the soil.

“It has all grown so much since we first came here. It’s really impressive Caduceus,” she said, taking some of the clippings Caduceus missed out of the pot.

“Well, you know, I lived in the woods my whole life. Plus the Wildmother helps,” he said lightly. He was clipping a few pink flowers with teardrop leaves, gathering their long stems in his hand. “But it’s a good way to commune with nature and have some time to think.”

Yasha set down the watering can on the small table at the base of the tree. “I have been reading those books that Caleb got me,” she said as she moved to get an empty pot from the work table. The young persimmon tree needed to be repotted. “I’d like to try and grow a few of the flowers I remember from home, if you’ll help me.”

Yasha looked up from the planter as she set it down on the tile floor of the tower roof, watching Caduceus’ reaction.

He smiled in that kind and gentle way of his, and his ears twitched slightly in response. “Oh, well, that’s a great idea. Were you thinking the white one or the blue one?” he asked. The firbolg was already setting his shears down and wiping his hands on his apron.

“Oh, I-I-” Yasha stuttered, “maybe we could try both?”

* * *

_**Jester.** _

The smoke from the fire was being blown in her face over and over. Yasha attempted to shift over to avoid it, but apparently the haze was committed to following her. She coughed once into her cloak to clear her throat. She could deal with a little smokiness for this one night.

“You okay?” Beau asked from next to her. She was sitting with her back straight and legs crossed, one eye open and watching Yasha shift around.

Yasha waved her off. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just a little smoky, you know?” Beau chuckled and closed her eyes again, a smirk on her lips. She rolled her neck once before settling back into her meditative position.

“You could always sit somewhere else,” the monk whispered, lowering her voice so only Yasha could hear. The barbarian shifted in futility once more and let out a small huff of frustration. Her knee knocked into Beau’s thigh when her legs stretched out and the monk’s smirk grew into a smile.

“No, no. I’m okay sitting here,” Yasha said. She pulled her bag in front of her and took out the book Jester had given her. It had just started getting interesting with Oskar and Guinevere down in the tunnels.

Yasha laid back against her pack and read by the light of the fire, for a long stretch of time. Around her, the Nein moved through their evening routines. Caduceus made tea. Caleb sat with Veth and the two worked over something magical Yasha didn’t understand. Jester was drawing and talking animatedly with Fjord, gesturing wildly with her pen while he laughed and nodded along. Occasionally, she would glance across the fire to where Yasha lay next to Beau

Beau sat almost entirely still, meditating. Yasha found her eyes drifting from Oskar’s firm grip to the rise and fall of Beau’s breathing.

\--

Several hours later, Yasha woke with a start and grabbed the hand on her shoulder. Her eyes opened to an amused Beau, the brown of her skin scaled to grey in the darkness.

“Time for your watch, Yash,” she said quietly, shifting back onto her heels. Yasha blinked her eyes a few times against the graininess of sleep. She must have fallen asleep while reading by the fire. At least the fire had died out by now. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her book fell off of her chest into the dirt beside her. Beau picked the book back up and turned it to read the cover, mirth clear in her eyes.

“What time is it?” she asked. Beau looked up at the moon and shrugged.

“Maybe two or so, I’m not Caleb.” She handed the book back to Yasha and shifted back to sit on her own bedroll. “You’re on with Jester. Night, Yasha.”

Yasha nodded. “Good night, Beau,” she said softly. Beau looked at her once more and smiled before attempting to make herself comfortable in her blankets.

Yasha put the book from Jester back into her back and pulled the straps tight. She looked across their small camp to find the tiefling waving her over. Yasha stood and grabbed the Magician’s Judge before gingerly stepping past Beau and Veth to sit down next to the cleric.

Jester had her notebook and inks out, her face happy and still tinged with sleep. As Yasha approached, Jester said, “I’m kind of glad we convinced Caleb to do the dome, you know. We can’t have a fire in the mansion!”

Yasha pulled her sword to rest across her lap. “It was very relaxing. I can’t believe I fell asleep,” she said, rubbing at the back of her neck sheepishly.

“Oh yeah, you like passed out, Yasha. It was pretty funny,” Jester laughed, flipping a page in her sketchbook. Yasha could feel her cheeks grow hot and she looked down at her lap. She could hear Jester tearing at something in her book.

“I did draw this though,” said the cleric, and when Yasha looked up a picture was thrust into her hands. Her brow furrowed and she took the paper. She opened her mouth to ask about it but found her breath caught in her throat.

The paper in her hands was vibrant, all blues and purples and whites swirling together. It was a picture of her, laying down on her pack and looking up at the sky. What had been smoke swirling around her, Jester had made into flowers. Every billow of smoke was a petal or a leaf, the thin wisps of haze crafted into stems and vines. Her book lay open on her chest. There was a faint smile on the lips of the Yasha in the drawing. She looked so peaceful. It was beautiful.

Yasha was rendered silent for a long moment. She just stared down at the drawing in front of her, at the way the flowers enveloped her, at how relaxed she was, at the small blue flowers sprinkled throughout her hair. The color was so familiar.

“This is beautiful, Jester,” she said, glancing up at the tiefling. “I love it so much.”

Jester’s smile to her was big and bright. “I just wanted you to maybe see what the rest of us see when we look at you. You are so wonderful, Yasha. And you’ve come so far! You’re an important part of our family.”

Yasha could feel her cheeks flush, her neck growing hot at the attention. She looked back down at her hands gripping the piece of art. She relaxed her grip, afraid to accidentally damage the paper. “I did not know I could feel like this again,” she said quietly.

“Feel like what?” Jester asked.

“I don’t know. I guess, happy? I don’t know,” Yasha answered, shrugging. She looked over at the rest of the Nein on their bedrolls, at the way Fjord slept on his back next to Jester and Caduceus curled all the way in on himself, shortening his tall frame into a ball on the other side of the half-orc. Veth still slept close to Caleb, though maybe not as close as she once did. The wizard had his coat over him despite the blankets he was laying on. In sleep, the lines of worry aging Caleb’s face relaxed and he seemed so much younger. He carried less in his sleep.

Yasha’s gaze moved over to her own empty bedroll, and at Beau sleeping beside it. She was on her stomach, face mashed into her pillow, and legs akimbo. Her arms were pulled tight to her chest. She had taken her hair down, and Yasha was momentarily surprised to see how long it had grown.

“I’m glad that you’re happy. You deserve it, Yasha.”

Yasha looked back to the cleric and smiled. She took her sword from her lap and placed it on the ground, then stood and walked over to her pack, careful to avoid disturbing Beau, and she pulled out her book from Molly. Opening to a fresh page, she folded the drawing carefully in half, and then in half again, and placed it between the pages, tucking it securely into the binding. She then put the book back into her bag and, sparing one last glance toward Beau, returned to her seat next to Jester. She pulled her sword back onto her lap and ran her fingers through the short grass of their camp site.

After a few minutes of silence, Yasha turned once more toward the cleric, who was back to drawing. “Jester, would it be okay if maybe I didn’t keep that picture?” she asked, stretching a blade of grass between her fingers.

“Oh, of course, Yasha! I made it for you. Maybe it’ll be good for when we go,” Jester reassured her, adding a new line to her portrait of Sprinkle with a flourish.

Yasha craned her neck to look at the sky, clouds covering her view of the moons. “Yeah, maybe.”

* * *

_**Beau.** _

“Hey, Yash, do you have a second?” Beau called. Yasha looked up from the bedding she was rolling, one hand pulling the ties tight. The monk was standing in the doorway to her room, leaning against the frame with an arm behind her back.  
Yasha gave her a warm smile and nodded, turning back to the bedroll to finish securing it. “I should probably finish packing,” the smaller woman commented, “I haven’t quite gotten around to it.”

The barbarian laughed and shook her head in disbelief. “Beau. We’re leaving in the morning,” she said disapprovingly, the twinkle in her eyes revealing her mirth.

“I know, I know. I’ve just had a busy few days,” Beau said.

“Oh?”

Beau nodded and stepped fully into the room, bringing her arm in front of her. She was holding what looked to be an ancient book.

“Caleb kinda already stole my thunder with the whole book thing, but I wanted you to have this.” Beau proffered the leather bound tome with a crooked smile, waiting patiently for Yasha to take it from her hands.

Yasha turned the large book to read the cover, only to discover it was written in an unfamiliar arcane text. The gilding on the letters was pearlescent and the way it caught the light was beautiful. She ran her fingers against the lettering in awe.

“It’s beautiful, Beau,” she said, looking up at the monk. “But I don’t know this language.” Beau’s eyes narrowed momentarily because a look of understanding crossed her face.

“Oh, yeah, no, it’s like, magical or whatever,” she said, stepping forward and reaching for the cover of the book in Yasha’s hands. She flipped it open the title page and Yasha watched the strange symbols swirl in front of her eyes for a moment before they settled into something resembling actual works. “See? Anyone’s supposed to be able to read it, so, yeah,” Beau trailed off, her hand still resting on the cover of the book.

Yasha smiled at her. “That is pretty cool. What is it about?” she asked, looking at Beau instead of reading the title for herself. The monk blushed under her look.

“Oh, uh, I don’t actually know?” Beau answered, shrugging. “I got it from the Library, and Caleb helped me figure it out. The magic is supposed to help with like, intuition and stuff? He said it could help protect you from people getting in your head.”

Yasha inhaled sharply, the edges of her vision blurring with tears. Beau’s eyes widened quickly in response, panic racing over her features.

“I should’ve known it was stupid, I shouldn’t have even done this, I’m sorry,” she blurted. “You know what, I’m just gonna go.” As she turned to leave, Yasha stopped her with a hand on her arm. “No, Beau, wait,” she implored.

Yasha waited until the shorter woman turned back to her. “This is an incredible gift, Beauregard,” she started. “I just don’t know what to do with all of your kindness and understanding sometimes.” She squeezed the Expositor’s arm in what she hoped was reassurance. “You’re giving me something to help me with one of my biggest fears. That is the greatest gift.”

Beau’s cheeks flushed to a darker brown and she shifted her weight. “There’s actually something else,” she muttered. The barbarian’s brow furrowed and she tilted her head.

Beau reached forward for the book, and Yasha relinquished it freely. Nimble fingers flipped through the pages, stopping at one. Pressed between the pages was a familiar deep purple flower. Yasha’s mouth began to tingle in response to the memory of the intoxicating flowers on Rumblecusp.

“Beau, how did you—” but she was stopped by the woman in question flipping further into the book. The pages opened to reveal a white flower with thin petals around a yellow center. White seeds surrounded the bright yellow color. It gave the impression of an eight pointed star. Yasha remembered these flowers distantly, from the fields outside of Zadash.

More tears gathered at the edge of her eyes that she tried unsuccessfully to blink back. Beau avoided looking at her face when she opened to a new page. It was a scarlet red flower, the kind that had been at the tables of the Lavish Chateau when Marion performed.

“Beau,” she whispered.

“One more.” The pages were turned once more, and revealed a many-petaled flower such a deep red that at first glance Yasha thought it was black. From the gardens in Rosohna. Tears fell freely from Yasha’s eyes, streaking down her cheeks.

“Beau.”

The woman in question bit the inside of her cheek. “Caleb helped me with this one too, and Essek. And Jester too, I guess, since she’s the one that messaged Vilya for me. She was nice enough to take me and Caleb to Rumblecusp long enough to get the flower, but I promise we left right away.” She was rambling now, filling the silence in the space Yasha’s astonishment left.

Yasha wiped her eyes and took a deep breath to settle herself. Her emotions had been so intense in these last few days. “Beau, thank you. These are beautiful,” she professed. “I- just thank you.” She touched the dark flower and felt the soft petals under her fingertips.  
Beau reached up and gently wiped the tears from Yasha’s cheeks. She left her hands there, cupping the aasimar’s face. “I can’t say I understand what you’re going through or thinking about right now, but you do so much for everyone else, for me, that I wanted to do something for you.” She swallowed. “I thought, maybe you could add these to your flower collection, and bring them with you?”

Yasha cleared her throat, and leaned into the hands cupping her face.

“She will love them, Beau.”

* * *

_**Yasha.** _

She isn’t sure how long she sat there. It could have been minutes, an hour, more. It didn’t really matter. Yasha had finally made it. She was going to take her time.

The tribe hadn’t honored her with a proper burial, which was to be expected. No amount of coaxing or pleading from Jester and Fjord made them reveal where she was laid to rest. In their minds, she was no more Dolorav than Yasha now, and Yasha of all people didn’t deserve to know anything.

Yasha rubbed at the tattoo on her chin. She had caused and received so much pain here, and she couldn’t even remember most of it.

But this was something she was learning to live with.

For now, there was the tree, and with it lived her entire life with Zuala. The tree was gnarled and grey, and altogether not beautiful. It had died long ago and had been dead all of Yasha’s life.

They first met by this tree. It seemed as fitting a marker as anything.

Yasha took a deep breath before standing, grabbing her book, and walking closer to the tree.

As she stood underneath the large, gnarled branches, she placed a hand flat against the trunk. With a shuddering breath, she leaned her forehead against the rough bark. The barbarian spent several more long moments waiting there, trying to center herself. With a final breath, she stepped back from the tree and knelt down. She began to dig into the earth, creating a hole a few hands wide and a few hands deep.

Yasha reached up to unclasp her cloak and laid it stretched out in the hole.

Another shuddering breath tore through her before she could stop it. “I am so sorry Zuala,” she whispered. Yashs clenched her fists once, twice, and then she opened the book from Mollymauk.

From it, she took every flower collected for Zuala. A clover. A small white flower. Bark from a tree.

A small bunch of wildflowers from Nott.

The purple and blue flowers from the Xhorhaus garden.

The flowers Beau had worked so hard to find.

The drawing from Jester.

A single white feather.

All of this she placed on her cloak, and once her book was empty, she wrapped the cloak around the collection of objects. She readjusted some of the fabric so the cloak fit entirely in the small hole, her treasures secure inside.

Yasha touched two fingers to her lips, and then touched those same figures to the bundle at the foot of the tree.

“I will hold you in my heart forever, Zuala,” murmured Yasha. “I wish you could meet my new family. You would have really liked them.” She smiled up at the tree in front of her, tears pooling at the corners of her blue and violet eyes.

Slowly, the barbarian pushed the small pile of dirt she created back into the hole. Handful by handful, her cloak was covered in dark, sandy earth, until eventually it was completely obscured. Putting aside Molly’s book, she pressed the earth flat with both hands.

Satisfied with her work, Yasha wiped her hands off and picked her book back up. She stood to her full height, rolling back her shoulders. She was stiff from the time spent hunched over the ground.

Yasha smiled at her feet, and looked back to the top of the tree, craning her head back to take it in fully. “You know, I once told you someday I would fly you away from here so we could be together --” Yasha’s voice cracked, but she cleared her throat and took a shuddering breath -- “and I can’t do one of those things anymore, but I hope you are still proud of me.”

Yasha felt a tear run from her eye down her cheek to her chin. She closed her eyes, and unfurled her wings.

She bent her knees and jumped upward, and with one, two, three powerful strokes, she lifted herself to the top of the large tree. Yasha let herself hang in the air for a moment, looking out at the land she grew up on, at the village she had one called home, and her family observing her from afar. She closed her eyes and felt the wind move across her skin.

When she knew her time with the gift of flight was almost done, Yasha drifted down, her feet gently touching the ground. As her wings faded out behind her, she placed a hand against the tree again. The barbarian breathed deeply, trying to memorize the smell of the damp bark and leaves.

This was the end of her time here.

Yasha stepped back for the last time. “Goodbye, Zuala,” she whispered. “I have to go.”

And she turned away from the tree, back toward the rest of the Nein who waited so patiently for her.

When she reached them, it was Jester who moved in for a hug first, but she was soon followed by everyone else. They were a mess of arms and heads on shoulders and wet cheeks, a somewhat stiff Yasha in the middle. It took a moment, but she soon let herself relax into the comfort of her friends.

The Nein stood embracing one another for a long moment, It helped to center Yasha. She reminded herself of her dreams, of the growing feathers of her wings, the actual full wings, the words of Zuala, giving her permission to let go.

Fjord extracted himself from the hug first. “I don’t want to cut this short, but I think it’s for the best if we start to head out.” He nodded his head in the direction of the Dolorav village, and in the dim light of dusk Yasha could make out a group moving in their direction. She nodded to Fjord, and everyone began to pull their limbs back to their own personal space.

Caleb stepped away to a flat piece of land in order to begin tracing his teleportation circle. The others spread out, keeping an eye on the approaching group

Yasha took one more look toward the tree. The gnarled bark of the trunk was grey and scarred. The branches arched out from the top at strange, sharp angles. Many of the leaves were dying, if not already dead. It was a very ugly tree. But it was their tree.

A hand at her back pulled Yasha from her reverie. It was Beau, her touch as light as ever, never wanting to cross a line, always respecting Yasha’s space.

“Are you ready to go?” the monk asked, her blue eyes darting around Yasha’s face.

Yasha smiled softly and watched how Beau’s lips mirrored her expression. She nodded firmly.

“Yes. Let’s go home.”


End file.
